It's Time.

It's that time of year.

It's time to party.

Time to give thanks.

Which should be all of the time.

Time to buy more food than a single day can ever consume.

Doctor Who is back.

Time for some Time And Relative Dimension In Space.

Wacky time.

It's time to remember who you are: just a human, the same as all other humans, just massively more privileged than most.

Time is a wanting and vocal companion. A relentless chaperone readily bellowing out the minute-by-minute of the day with little care of consequence.

In the mists of eight months gone, I etched a version of those words in my first foray into blogdom. At the time, they were apt to my mood and moment. I had too much of it, gushing as it did like a bursting dam with insufficient stubby-formed digits to fill the sprouting holes of its pervasive push forward.

It's a funny thing, time. Not chuckle funny or self-deprecating. Not satirical or slapstick.

It's the eternal wise guy, quick-cracking harsh barbs at our temporal existence.

An intangible paradox that exists in every moment yet slips through our grasp. It mocks with its abundance, transforming what should be a gift into an unwieldy burden—a silent force, shaping our experiences, indifferent to our attempts to control or understand it. And shackles us to navigate its currents with reverence and frustration.

Melancholy, I know. It's the holidays, after all.

In the good old days, before yore was yore and before time was money, a great teacher, and the healer of all wounds, your regular pre-civilisation bipedal didn't have much use for the construct. Their internal circadian clock kept them content.

Without clocks, calendars or smartphones, we lived according to the sun, moon and seasons. Work and play were natural rhythms rather than artificial chronometers. You may have needed to demonstrate greater urgency with a salivating sabre-tooth on your tail, but that would be the most demanding of your deadlines.

Time was also endless in the summer of youth. At least my youth. Neverending games of untold adventure from sun up to sun down. No phones, no limits, just the dwindling of the day to draw us home for supper. Creativity blossomed—and time chased slowly across the parks and fields.

When you're young, time moves at a glacial pace—endless summer days, school hours spent gazing longingly out the window, nights wondering if you'll ever grow into an adult.

But like so many things you wish away in youth, time's leisurely pace is a gift.

As we age, the temporal tables turn. Suddenly, the hands of every clock spin like propellers, the calendar pages flying off in a flurry. We desperately try to claw back fleeting minutes and moments, our frustration mounting against the tyranny of tocks and ticks.

In our working lives, we resign as prisoners trapped between the immovable walls of deadlines and duties. Time adopts an ominous demeanour, pushing us relentlessly even with the slightest delay.

But what if time isn't the enemy? What if we need to remember how to tango with life's one constant dance partner?

After all, history shows us that transformative work transcends typical timelines. Darwin spent decades observing Galapagos finches. Edison toiled through 1,000 botched bulbs before his illumination. It's a reminder that the gestation period of creative endeavours is unique.

So don't dread time. Don't rage against its essential nature. Like an ocean's tides, seasons and heartbeats, progress pulsates to deeper biological rhythms we disregard at our peril.

It's your time. Own it.

Create goals by all means, but hold them lightly lest time's flow carves its course. Rigidity is the enemy of the great.

Moments and meetings define our working lives. But our best work comes when we honour time's whispering wisdom. Success isn't putting in the hours but putting in hours that matter with satisfaction and soul intact.

The unforgiving embrace of time is often seen as an adversary, pushing us to produce results with ever-increasing speed.

However, the essence of exceptional work, like all forms of creativity, defies the boundaries of the clock. It thrives on patience, understanding, and the unwavering commitment to crafting something remarkable.

Don't focus on the deadline; focus on the outcome.

The pressure to meet deadlines and adhere to tight schedules can be a relentless force. Let us not forget the fundamental truth that separates good work from great work – time reveals authenticity.

We all have our version of time.

And it's cultivated by nurturing creativity, crafting narratives, and delivering exceptional experiences that resonate deeply with your audience.

Remember that time is our ally, not our foe.

Anyway, I've got to run; I've got a deadline to meet.

Happy holidays to all of you.